


Game Of Cruelty

by DRHPaints



Category: Barry (TV 2018), Bill Hader - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Crying, Cunnilingus, Depression, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, Metaphors, Mild Blood, Mild Gun Violence Reference, One Shot, Other, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Sub!Barry, Suicidal Thoughts, Surreal, Trauma, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28577448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DRHPaints/pseuds/DRHPaints
Summary: Nerves frayed after a hit, Barry joins his acting class friends at Residuals for drinks where he meets Fox, a mysterious non-binary person who soon invites him to the men's room following a dance.
Relationships: Barry Berkman/Original Non-Binary Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	Game Of Cruelty

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by rottingpup on tumblr. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW/CW: The original character of Fox is non-binary transmasc, but assigned female at birth and I use words like 'clit' and pussy' in reference to their genitalia. I apologize if this is too dysphoria-inducing for some, and if you would like a fic with different terms, please feel free to make a request on tumblr at fandomtransmandom.
> 
> For those who are curious, the lyrics to the first song referenced in this fic are from Trevor Daniel's 'Anymore.' And the title is from a lyric in the song 'Journal of Ardency' by Class Actress, which I envision as being the second song mentioned.

Raise whisky to mouth. Smell gunpowder. Lick pink lips. Taste copper.  _ Not my blood. Never mine anymore.  _

Too loud. Barry laughed too loud. Now too quiet. They all expected him to say something. Contribute. But Barry could hardly summon the faux smile of his tragic comedian’s mask for the members of the acting class that night at Residuals, much less the other elements necessary to convince everyone of his humanity.

Barry ordered another drink. Knew he shouldn’t. Or at least should’ve gone with a Natty Light instead of a fourth whisky. But Barry needed the burn. Barry needed a stinging esophagus, liquid fire sloshing into his innards and scorching the empty walls. Reminding him that he, this body, this Barry, still lived. As Barry tossed back the amber liquid, frustrated by how smoothly the fresh dose passed over his numb tongue, Barry needed to remember his flesh existed, desperate to forget how the meat bore a diseased mind.

Barry needed oblivion. Someone said a joke. Others chuckled. Barry forgot to join in. Maybe his brain forgot joy altogether, staring at the condensation creeping down the side of his glass. Noting how, were the clear drips a different color, their trajectory would exactly imitate the liquid escaping the bullet hole Barry left in the unfortunate man’s skull earlier that evening.

A large thumb obscured the weeping pane. A sizable hand trembled. Barry should’ve eaten. He knew that. But when the text came through from Natalie as he unscrewed the silencer asking if he wanted to come, Barry thought: Yes. Good. Friends. Fun.

And now here Barry sat. Even with his vague handle on reality, Barry could sense their discomfort. The sidelong glances. The nervous titters. Shouldn’t’ve told that story about Basic Training. Blurted ‘fuck’ a dozen too many times. Guffawed at Nick’s tale of woe, thinking him sarcastic.  _ Great, Berkman. Just great. _

Barry didn’t know what made him look up. Perhaps the melancholy notes opening the song, particularly after a string of bangers whooping through the tavern. Sounding into his weary soul. Calling the drowning blue whirlpools of Barry’s eyes to the dance floor.

Standing. Staring. Green gaze unapologetically piercing Barry as their taught body subtly fluttered, as though a breeze occupied the dusty room that only their fragile bones could sense. Even from across the bar, Barry could see the rise and fall of their narrow, flat chest. Their breath synced. Barry thought he might know how they smelled.

Plump lips parted as lyrics floated over the speakers. Their sandy haired-head twisted. Seeking. Reptilian in their pursuit of Barry and Barry alone as they mouthed along to the words. 

_ Oh, I ain’t gonna lie, I been havin’ problems _

_ Givin’ a fuck anymore _

_ It’s a real big issue, I can’t trust anyone _

_ Oh I’ve been havin’ problems, feelin’ love anymore _

Barry didn’t know the song. Though unfamiliar with both tune and lyric, he still knew exactly what the blond would do next. The bass dropped. Undulating. Shimmying. Those hips moved. Moved for Barry. He knew. They knew. As they soundlessly sang, Barry watched, enraptured.

Lost in a world of their own creation. Eyelids shut and fingers tugging at their own fair tresses. “ _ I just need someone with me, somebody…”  _

Two emeralds found Barry through the dimness, treasure unafraid to be discovered, and as their curvaceous lips wrapped around the words, Barry heard them in his mind, his heart:  _ Come over.  _

Air evacuated his lungs. Barry’s knuckles whitened around his drink. Nick talked. Maybe Natalie. Barry had no idea, really. All he could hear was music, a melody that seemed as though someone tore back his rotting flesh, using the divots in his bones to compose the notes.

_ Oh I’m awake at night _

_ Thinking ‘bout my life _

_ Hopin’ I would die _

_ Sometimes I wish it was over _

Hands flowed over their tattooed skin. Mouth filling with saliva, Barry knew, even from yards away, how those fingers would trickle over his own pallid flesh. Strong. Certain. But tender. In a manner Barry wanted. Needed. 

The individual cared not for those half-assing a handful of lame moves in their periphery, self conscious and shuffling over the minuscule square of boards. No. All out. Full bore. As cliche as it may sound, they danced as if no one were watching. But Barry watched. Ravenously. Perched on his seat and sculpted jaw flashing in time with the lights, forgetting when he last blinked.

A new requiem flooded Residuals, electronic and sensual, imbibing Barry with boldness as neon flickered. Blue. Purple. Pink. Blue. Purple. Pink. Barry’s chiseled features painted in artful reliefs. A portrait of curious beauty.

Barry stood. Took out his wallet. Threw cash on the table. No clue what denomination or amount. Step. Barry didn’t instruct his body to take any of these actions. They simply occurred as he moved. A sleepwalker, deaf to the protests of his friends attempting to startle Barry from his reverie as he approached. One, two, three stairs; until they met.

“Hello.” A deep call for a petite creature. And yet the tone held no surprise for Barry. He knew the voice before his large feet ever graced the stage. Something told Barry he knew the sound all his life. Normally they would be the kind of person one would bend for, ask to repeat themselves, difficult to discern over anything beyond light chit chat. 

But Barry heard. Joined ears or no, he heard. “Hey.” Touching fingers to his firm chest, Barry’s heartbeat ticked a Morse code of excitement, arousal. “Barry.”

No warning signs surrounded the green pools of their eyes. No indication of depth. Nor monsters hidden within the waves. So as a smirk played beneath, tongue to teeth and eyebrow raised in challenge, Barry heard one syllable, “Fox” and he dove, headfirst.

“Wanna dance?” Barry couldn’t dance. Didn’t know how. Whenever he tried Barry looked like a broken wind up toy smiling too broadly at his own failings. 

And yet, Barry bobbed his head. “Yeah.” 

Dainty palms glided up his solid chest, looping around, serpents of Fox’s inquisitive fingers slithering into Barry’s chestnut tresses, unafraid of forbidden knowledge. Sizable hands encircled Fox’s waist, and despite the discrepancy in their height, Fox used the power of their presence to match Barry’s narrow hips to their own. Barry instinctively crouched before the apex of Fox, exposing the long line of his pale neck as their bodies swirled a rhythm of novel evolution, a joining unseen. Familiar perhaps in the parts used, their orientation to one another, but fresh in a world that for eons catered to their opposites.

Fox skipped their lips over the gravel of Barry’s sharp jaw, clawing hungrily over his broad back as their compact body directed Barry in the cadence of the earth, rising moons and setting suns. Barry rolled. Gyrated. Unsure whether lost or found, fogged or clear. Latching onto Fox, seeking symbiosis as his anxieties drained into the smaller one’s skin, ink aglow with nourishment under the glimmering lights.

Capturing Barry’s mouth, Fox thrust the heat between their thighs forward and Barry growled appreciatively against their lips, tongues wrestling. Barry tasted copper. Salt. Whisky. Fox. Pawing at Fox’s ass, Barry drove the wakening beast of his erection toward the cave of divine warmth barred him by nothing but denim and common decency, not giving a damn who noticed as they mauled one another upright among those hiding behind the guise of civilization.

“Barry…” Talons scraped over his scalp as Fox pulled him back, green glint of their eyes a razor inviting Barry into an eternity of silent serenity. “Meet me in the men’s room.”

Barry thought his lips moved. Thought a word of assent passed the cage of his rounded teeth. But Barry didn’t see Fox leave. Fox simply was. Then wasn’t. 

Vast shoulders folded inward, an invisible tether directed Barry through the crowd, the noise. A gnat buzzing his name sounded far off, Barry swatted them away. Friends could wait. All could wait.

Barry entered the bathroom. Empty. Urinals. Sinks. No one. 

Fox. Not there. Then everywhere. Hands groping and mouths famished. Stall. Barry’s maroon henley peeled unceremoniously overhead. Fox fingering the fluffy dark pelt donning his solid chest. Broad back wincing against the cold tile, Barry nuzzled into the shelter of Fox’s arms, their breath.

“I want you, Barry.” Fox purred, nipping at his joined earlobe. 

Slinking down on the wall, Barry embraced Fox, powerful arms loose and sluggish with the weight of his sins. Muscular legs open and exposed, Barry’s sandpaper cheeks, his chin, chafed over Fox’s neck. “Me too...so bad…”

“You want me to make you feel good?” The button of Barry’s jeans popped open. He nodded against a picture etched onto flesh, strange letters Barry couldn’t read, their meaning lost to time. 

A mewl of need squeaked between Barry’s pink lips. “Yeah...please…” Barry nodded urgently as his zipper lowered, lengthy fingers ghosting over Fox’s decorated forearms. “I want it…”

Fox freed Barry’s turgid erection, and with the first slide of the paper-thin skin over the wide head of his cock, Barry’s cheek hit the wall with the agonized howl of a wounded animal, keening and anxious for relief.

Delicate fingers combed back his brunette locks, Fox balancing to Barry’s high forehead. “It’s okay…” The acoustics in the cramped Residuals restroom must’ve been astounding, because Barry peeked up from the crater of Fox’s voice, sound uttering from everywhere, raining over his weary spirit as they touched a kiss to his supple pink lips. “I’ve got you.”

Barry snatched at Fox’s wrist, pumping feverishly and thrusting into the warm clutch of their palm. “More.” A flinty gasp, Barry’s nose flared, his eyes stung. “ _ More… _ ”

With a gentle touch and a gentler shake of their head, Fox guided the strong arm of Barry away. Scooping his woe-ravaged head to their shoulder, Fox inhaled Barry’s grief unto themselves as they stroked up and down. Up and down. Hand the steady beat of lapping waves. Constant. Resolute. A beat from before time counted that would persist after every clock ceased to function as Barry rocked his pelvis forward, their mouths fused and his eyes wet.

“I’m right here.” Fox murmured the needs of Barry’s afflicted soul aloud into the shared patch of warmth, though Barry didn’t know how they deduced the words. “I’ll take care of you. Make you feel so good, beautiful…”

“Yeah…” Voice waterlogged and jaw hanging, Barry knew he should be ashamed to cry in front of this stranger. But he snuck his big hands up the back of Fox’s shirt, aching for skin on skin, bringing his moist cheeks close as he sought the solace of their mouth. “I want that…”

Fox hummed as their lips laced, thumb rubbing into Barry’s sensitive frenulum with a reassuring nod. “I’ll give it to you, Barry.” As they massaged over his built pecs, his broad shoulders, down his firm arms, Barry allowed himself to collapse into Fox’s consoling grasp. “Everything you want, gorgeous. Just breathe.  _ Breathe _ .”

Barry tried. But his lungs, though they did the action of inhaling, of exhaling, without his attention since before Barry birthed violence, since before his hand could wield a gun, since before he became Death, in that second, chose to betray him.

A hitch. A hiccup. Pink lips quivering and sapphire eyes a flood, Barry shook his head frantically. “Okay, okay…” A molasses whisper coated Barry’s frayed nerve endings as Fox petted over his brown tendrils, lips brushing over Barry’s temple, his cheek. Tasting copper. Tasting salt.

“I’ve got you. It’s okay. You’re good.” Both arms hugged him, Barry’s cock squalling in defiance at the loss of contact as he sobbed into the fabric of Fox’s shirt while their fingers drew invisible patterns over his wide back, images and markings once adorning cave walls, signaling safety. Security. Home.

“I’m sorry…” Barry muttered, sniffing. “I didn’t mean to…”

“No need, beautiful.” Worshipful hands imbued Barry’s wan flesh with strength as Fox planted a kiss between his dark brows, leeching tension and injecting peace. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Barry wanted to accept Fox’s forgiveness. Wanted to bathe himself in the mercy of one who didn’t know better, let the crimson water gurgle down the drain and towel off the shame. 

But Barry knew sin wasn’t that simple. Hooking two fingers into the waistband of Fox’s pants, Barry used his other hand to clear his damp face. “I...I want to touch you.”

“Okay.” Fox unzipped with a brief peck to Barry’s pink lips. “You wanna get on your knees?”

It almost wasn’t a question, Barry bobbing his head as he sank to the floor. Jeans bunching around their knees, Fox cupped Barry’s crisp jaw, thumb abrading over his rough cheek and smiling down until Barry mirrored their expression. “You ready, gorgeous?”

“Mmhmm…” Big hands kneading Fox’s decorated thighs, Barry wanted to ogle the glistening pink flesh inches from his face, but he couldn’t tear himself from Fox’s viridescent gaze, commanding and yet disarming. 

“Okay.” Fox took a lip of their pussy in each hand, spreading wide and leaning forward. Mouth open and tongue lolling, Barry waited patiently for Fox to place themselves, receiving the communion of their sex as Fox’s forehead met the wall and they rotated down onto his sturdy jaw. Barry licked. Demurely at first. Then the flavor, sweet. Unctuous. Registered on Barry’s palette, signalling a part of his brain that Barry, perhaps more than the average man, tapped into quite regularly. The section of wrinkly gray meat within Barry’s beleaguered skull in charge of flexing every muscle within his tall frame instantly. Of demanding every dark hair over the expanse of his pale skin stand at attention. The piece which told Barry to run. Hide. Strike. Kill.

Neurons fired and Barry’s wide mouth swarmed up with a groan. Tongue slathering over every crannie of Fox’s dewy pussy, Barry’s pupils expanded until but a ridge of blue want surrounded their inky depths as he rapaciously devoured. 

“ _ Oh fuck...Barry, yes! You’re so good!” _ Fox rutted against Barry’s sharp jaw and he swiveled his head along with the circuit of their hips, unwilling to part from Fox’s delectable flesh even for a second as their fingers tore at his dark tresses. Slapping a palm to the wall and thighs shaking in ecstasy, Fox attempted to back off when their knees buckled and their weight threatened to smother Barry’s eager face. But a growl issued from between Fox’s legs. Powerful arms coiled behind their ass, yanking them forward as Barry clamped his pink lips around Fox’s clit with merciless intent.

“ _ Oh fuck! Fuck, Barry! Yes! Suck my clit! So damn good! Yes! Fuck!”  _ Roar booming against the close walls as Fox threw their head back in euphoria, Barry inhaled with renewed fervor as their body quaked above, determinedly reducing the alpha to shrieking for succor.

Barry tugged on his lonely cock, the noises of Fox’s rapture overwhelming. Tilting their hips back, Fox caressed Barry’s handsome face with a smirk. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

“No…” Hand stilling, the cords of Barry’s neck worked and he stared up at Fox through misty eyelashes. “Can I? Please?”

Fox smiled, nodding. “Yeah. Just don’t make yourself cum, okay?” Tracing Barry’s lower lip, they arched an eyebrow. “That’s my job.”

“Okay.” Barry nuzzled into their soft touch for a moment before replacing his mouth to Fox’s soaked pussy.

Sizable hand sneaking up their inner thigh, soon graced with the slick evidence of his ministrations though inches from the precipice, Barry retreated from Fox with a gasp. “Fingers?”

“ _ Yes! _ ” Fox bit off the word, shoving Barry back into the moist heat with a moan. “ _ Fuck! Don’t stop! _ ” Two digits wiggled into the pulsating darkness, Barry requiring neither map nor direction to locate the spot. A spongey patch precisely deep enough for Barry’s lengthy fingers to light upon with accuracy and dexterity, as though molded to exist around his refined hand. 

As Fox screamed, the alternating slippery tongue, pliant lips, itchy face of Barry pushing into their hypersensitive skin, their body became both an offering and an opportunity. In Fox Barry could have his own pleasure, his own release, yes. But Barry would also display his talents before another, surrendering to Fox, to lust, to fate; for the scanty reward of unearthing a tiny glint of gold hidden in the dirt that comprised his soul.

Barry could not turn back time. Could not unenlist, unmeet Fuches. Barry could not bring back the dead.

But Barry could do this. And, as Fox’s nails scratched overhead and they struggled to stay upright, hair dangling and mouth panting, Barry knew he could perform the act well.

“Okay…” Swallowing, Fox staggered back, motioning for Barry to stand. “Okay... _ fuck… _ ” 

Barry rose to his feet, face shining and cock hanging heavy from his jeans. Fox didn’t care, mashing their mouths together for a kiss of accolade before ruffling Barry’s silky brown hair with a smile. “Good work, Barry.”

A crooked, goofy grin blossomed and for the first time that night Barry couldn’t meet Fox’s immobile gaze as he sheepishly shrugged his expansive shoulders. “Thanks.”

Pants halfway up their thighs, Fox paused, staring at Barry’s massive cock as though they prowled the barren forests for many a moon, only to stumble upon the choicest morsel unattended. “Barry, I...I’m gonna suck you, okay?” Fox’s hand trickled down his firm chest and over Barry’s little belly. “But...I wanna know. What you feel like. Inside. Just for a minute. That cool?”

“Yeah.” Face settling, Barry nodded solemnly. “Yeah, alright.” 

Fox turned their back to him and Barry couldn’t understand why the pressure returned behind his dark blue eyes. Why the act of Fox bending over, opening themselves, allowing Barry passage, caused a twinge of yearning within that made him brush his fingers through Fox’s strands of light hair, tickling their tailbone. Cherishing.

Fox bore back and Barry entered the pulsing wetness. “Oh...oh  _ fuck… _ ” Barry took Fox by the hips. Rotated. Drove forward. Then pounded. Hard. Once. Twice. Five times. Until a diminutive hand squeezed Barry’s carved forearm.

“Barry...no.” Shaking their head, Fox straightened, back flush to Barry’s chest. Fox arched their neck, linking their lips. “Just like this.” Whispers through the valley of secrets, Fox stood still, but they clenched around Barry from within, phenomenon enthralling. “Just slow. For a minute.”

Barry encased Fox in his strong arms, chin scratching over their shoulder. “Yeah…” Voice broken, Barry dragged his rounded teeth over the skin protecting Fox’s carotid artery. Safe. Secure. Home. “Okay…”

Inch up and down the wall. Rock back and forth. Pulse. Pulse. Pulse. Did Barry think? Breath? He didn’t know. Couldn’t remember. When did Barry’s hand travel between Fox’s thighs? When did the shouting start again? When did Barry glue his lips to Fox’s ear, breath hot and urgent as he pleaded,  _ “Please, please, let me keep fucking you _ …”?

“ _ Barry!  _ Barry…” Tapping at his hip, Fox forced them both back to stop their jostling bodies. “Barry, you can’t cum in me. I’ll…” Fox nodded, unwinding one of Barry’s arms. “I’ll just suck you now, okay?”

Fox pulled free and a huff of discontent left Barry’s wide nostrils, fingers ghosting over their back and squirming against the tile while Fox lowered themselves to the floor. 

Claiming Barry’s thick cock, Fox touched a kiss to the head, tasting the salty precum, tasting themselves, before working the warm circle of their lips down Barry’s shaft with a buzzing note of delight. “Oh  _ fuck _ ...Fox... _ yeah… _ ” Barry nodded enthusiastically, threading his fingers into their pale locks. “Just like that... _ please… _ ” 

Hollowing their cheeks with an unapologetic slurp, Fox retracted, only to ensconce Barry to the root, expertly fondling his balls and moaning. Trailing in between Barry’s little asscheeks, Fox popped off. “Do you want fingers, too?”

“Yeah.” Not something Barry would typically acquiesce to with a stranger, he couldn’t help himself, the mere brush of Fox’s touch tantalizing and sounding a call within that demanded prompt answer. 

Fox scooped fingers into their sopping pussy, adding a wad of spit before smearing over Barry’s hole. “One? Or two?”

“Two.” Voice scratching with need, Barry tried hopelessly to propel himself down onto Fox’s hand. “Please.  _ Now!” _

Worming their way in, Barry’s spine arched, shapely legs bending as Fox curled their fingers and flicked against his prostate. A stammered moan escaped Barry, and his cobalt eyes reasoned with Fox, hoping, praying they would take him once more into the oasis of their throat.

Mouth gaping, Fox swallowed the entirety of Barry’s substantial length in one fell swoop, plunging into him ruthlessly. “ _ Fuck!”  _ Barry yelped, heels skidding over the floor and sliding down half a foot before he caught himself. “ _ Fuck! Fox, that’s...that’s so good! Please...keep sucking me! Fuck...Fuck! Yes!”  _

Barry yowled with abandon, wet smacking sounds ricocheting off the stall, heedless of other possible patrons as he slammed his huge cock into the hot clutch of Fox’s mouth. Big hands cradled Fox’s skull near, pummeling their face with reckless velocity until strings of drool swung as Fox skewered Barry with skillful fervor.

“ _ Fuck! Fuck, Fox! Suck me! Keep going! Your mouth! Fuck! I love it! Fuck! Fuck!”  _ Dribbling their head to his lap, Barry’s body lurched disjointedly in an attempt to bear down onto Fox’s fiddling fingers and entomb himself within the enchanting circle of their hoovering lips.

No room. No walls. No sound. Only loins. Breath. Heat. Wet. Hair velvet beneath his fingertips and tongue saturated, firm as Fox gobbled Barry’s huge cock with voracious jubilance.

Barry submitted for consumption. Willing to fill and be filled if it meant escape from the harrowing tundra of his existence. Crawl into the den of Fox, fractured and starved, deposit this meager part of himself and emerge whole.

“ _ Fuck! Yeah, suck me! So good! Oh fuck! Fox….Fox! You’re gonna make me cum! So hard! Fuck! Fuck!”  _ Despite their extensive training, all the muscles placed along tendon and over bone, Barry’s legs failed him, crumbling to the floor as his broad back scuttled down the wall. Barry laid flat, high, wretched whimpers reaching to the heavens as he shamelessly humped Fox’s face. 

Ass slap, slap, slapping the tile, Barry licked his lips, clenched his sharp jaw, a large hand leaving Fox’s scalp to tap their shoulder in a panic. “ _ Fuck! I’m gonna cum! Gonna cum! Fox! Fox!” _

Fox hastily replaced Barry’s palm to their head, gulping his substantial cock, muscles of their throat waving like trees before a gail as their fingers zapped a lightning storm of ecstasy to Barry from within, his balls tightening and his heels kicking out in thunderous ardor. 

Inflating himself with huffing whines, Barry’s hips became airborne, desperate for somewhere deeper, wetter, warmer to release before he strained in arched silence. “ _ Fuck!” _

Nothing. Or perhaps everything. Barry wasn’t sure. The throb invaded Barry’s awareness. Cum draining into Fox’s tight throat, the continued gentle jerk leading Barry into a world unsullied. Paradise unknown, where neither fear nor mortality made their acquaintance, the waters of Barry’s deep blue eyes calm, docile. Ringed not by a sea foam of ivory guilt, but tranquility.

Cold. The floor was cold. Snickering. Someone washing hands in the sink thought their tryst amusing. Music. Loud. Blaring. Barry couldn’t understand how he went this long without hearing the thump. 

Fox extricated themselves, rubbing Barry’s endearing little belly with a smile. “Mmm...thanks, beautiful. That was nice.”

“Yeah.” Barry hid his pink lips away with a nod. Maybe a tad silly considering all they did together, but as Barry pulled up his pants, retrieving his henley from over the door, a shyness overcame him, square chin down and declining to land on Fox’s green gaze for even a second.

Fingers danced over his stubbled jaw to rest in Barry’s dark hair. Fox took his mouth as though Barry’s lips could speak no other name but theirs, kissing him with feral passion before parting with a grin. “Come on…”

A small hand led. Barry followed. Immediately they were in a throng of sweaty, drunken bodies. Too close. Too hot. Too noisy. 

Fingers left fingers. “No!” Barry groped. Elbowed a someone. Shouldered a something. Tried wedging his broad frame down and through and out. But to no avail. “Fox!”

No hope of his voice being heard through the crowd. Barry used his height to his advantage. Peering. Craning. Searching. 

Two eyes. Green and mysterious. Moving away, away, away. A plush mouth, the scene of innumerable wonders, forming words Barry could no longer hear, “ _ Goodbye, Barry. _ ”

Gone. Alone. Barry swallowed. Throat dry and dehydrated from the alcohol. The others from class partied in the corner, but Barry shadowed himself with his particular brand of darkness, slipping by unnoticed.  _ No one ever sees. No one. _

But Barry thought Fox did. Thought they witnessed the beast behind the sheep’s wool and were unafraid. As Barry requested a car ride home, he doubted the night’s events. Was he too rough? Too hard? 

No. Barry’s spirit told him they walked the shores of zeal hand in hand that evening, neither splashing the other without warning. 

Home and hidden beneath the covers, Barry breathed. Naked. Fetal. Quiet. The fingers of Fox pushed into his pasty skin. Warm and strong. Barry remembered. Their mouth, moist and hot and wanting, peppered his face, his limbs, his cock. Barry knew. He thought...

But when Barry stood before the mirror, his flesh bore no marks. No scratch of hasty nails. No imprint of insatiable teeth. Nothing.

And though Barry’s heart would never forget the elegant chaos they shared, he forever wondered whether the specimen of Fox existed, prowling out there in the streets for fresh quarry, smirking. Or were they merely a benevolent apparition dreamt by Barry’s tortured mind? The spectre who allowed Barry for one, shimmering instant, to be free.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read! If you enjoyed this story, please leave a comment or come say hi on tumblr at fandomtransmandom. I also accept requests!


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